


To Teach a Sorrow to Speak

by OrdinaryRealities



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, M/M, Reference to the apocalypse, gender is a construct, reference to Aziraphale trying to shoot Adam, referenced homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryRealities/pseuds/OrdinaryRealities
Summary: They turned though, and there they stood. Warlock blinked. Then reality reasserted itself. It had been ten years. These people couldn’t be them. They’d have aged. “Sorry, I thought.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “You just look like someone–” and then he paused. There was that funny little face tattoo Nanny Ashtoreth had had since he could remember and he took a breath. “Sorry, this is going to seem like a very weird question.” And he stopped. There was no polite way to ask if a man had used to be his female nanny. He fell back on the version he was familiar with. “What are your pronouns?”





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I'm super busy and also have not yet finished the final chapter. My timeline here is fast and loose. I'm only starting to post already because one of my Yuri on Ice fics made it over 1000 hits, and I'm shocked and delighted. (Also my Good Omens fics have been getting crazy kudos:hits ratios and I had 666 hits on Studying Native this morning, and if a Good Omens fic gets exactly 666 hits then that's probably a cause for celebration.)
> 
> I also want to warn you that there is a scene where Warlock finds out that Crowley and Aziraphale almost shot Adam during Armageddon and he gets very upset. In part, it becomes a theoretical discussion about whether they would have killed Warlock, even though they were his caretakers. He brushes it off very quickly, because I think that's what Warlock does with things that really upset him, and I don't plan for him to revisit it, but I'm certain that he thinks about it a lot, whether or not he actually talks about it with people. It's not trivial to him. I want to make sure that my readers know about that going into this, because I know that I'm navigating a minefield of truly horrifying possible trauma triggers. Please stay safe and don't read it if you think it's going to wrong-foot you. I'll warn again in that chapter, but I don't want it to ambush you there. (If I've missed a warning for something that you need a warning for, let me know and I'll add it and try to do better next time.)
> 
> I will also summarize that chapter at the beginning of the following chapter for anyone who wants to skip it, and I honestly think that, in spite of the heavy warning, this story is probably no less fluffy and happy than any other story I've posted. I'm a sucker for letting characters work through their trust issues and learn to find family.
> 
> Title from Eavan Boland's "The Lost Art of Letter Writing" ("And if we say / An art is lost when it no longer knows / how to teach a sorrow to speak, come, see // The way we lost it").

It was on his graduation day that it happened. Warlock’s parents had come, under duress. (“Really, Warlock,” his mother had sighed, “What were you thinking, going all the way to England for college?” It was Edinburgh. University.) Warlock… well, it wasn’t that he didn’t want his family there. If they’d claimed to be too busy he’d have been upset (especially his mum). He knew that. But still. 

He slipped away as soon as they were done taking pictures to walk through the campus. Absent parents and growing up with a foot in each country, Warlock felt more like he belonged here in Scotland than he had in England or Virginia. He didn’t want to leave. He’d applied for jobs in the UK, but none in Scotland. And then he froze. Across the sidewalk was a knot of people. (Pepper, he recognized, and Jeremy from Econ. But it was the adults with them who caught his gaze.) 

“As I was saying,” a voice drawled, “an excellent career choice. Surely, angel, even you can see the benefits of accountancy as a lifestyle?” It was the voice he recognized.

And there was Jeremy’s gentle pomposity, which had always made Warlock want to call him Percy (as in Weasley). “Well, it’s a very useful career, you know. Plenty of people don’t even know which form they need!”

Warlock continued staring. The adults were both standing with their backs to him, which made it hard to be sure. A stranger barked at him and he startled. 

“Oi, what do you think you’re looking at?”

“So sorry,” Warlock blushed. “I just…” His Nanny and the old gardener had no reason to show up here today. If they were here with Jeremy, how would they know him? As far as he could remember, they’d practically lived with him, Warlock, 24/7 until he was 11. Surely Jeremy wouldn’t have needed a nanny after that. He seemed the type who had never needed a nanny: had probably scolded his babysitter for not following the rules.

They turned though, and there they stood. Warlock blinked. Then reality reasserted itself. It had been ten years. These people couldn’t be them. They’d have aged. “Sorry, I thought.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “You just look like someone–” and then he paused. There was that funny little face tattoo Nanny Ashtoreth had had since he could remember and he took a breath. “Sorry, this is going to seem like a very weird question.” And he stopped. There was no polite way to ask if a man had used to be his female nanny. He fell back on the version he was familiar with. “What are your pronouns?” 

The old gardener – Francis, Warlock suddenly remembered, Francis was his name – lit up the way he always had (it had to be him) and Nanny paused, then leaned forward to study Warlock the way she used to when she was about to discover he’d taken an extra cookie or snuck a barn kitten into bed with him. 

“Why, if it isn’t young Warlock! Warlock, how are you?” And then she (?) took in his attire. “Aziraphale, look, Warlock is graduating too! Congratulations,” and Nanny beamed at Warlock, a bright sunny smile Warlock was sure he’d never seen on… well, on their face before. 

The last person in the group had riotous blond curls (and Warlock had never seen a head that deserved that phrase more) and oddly serious eyes that studied Warlock from behind the hair. “Oh. Hullo Warlock. I’m Adam.” And a hand was offered. “Crowley and Aziraphale are my godfathers. Do you know Wensleydale and Pepper?” And seeing where Warlock was still glancing over his shoulder at the one who had shouted to begin with, “That’s Brian.”

Warlock swallowed and took the hand. “I’m Warlock. Crowley and Aziraphale? Were… Well, they practically raised me.”

Pepper was staring at him like she’d never seen him before. Warlock shifted. He’d never been best friends with Pepper or anything, but there was a certain amount of solidarity when the two of you had the weirdest names in the classroom (even one with Jeremy in it. Wensleydale.) and were also both visibly queer. It was uncomfortable, having someone you liked in that distant solidarity way looking at you like she’d just read your journal. 

“So, umm.” Warlock cast about for something to say, now that he had this odd pair in front of him again. In a crowd of people his own age, it had always been easier to talk to the adults, and well, if he only had this one chance to talk to his Nanny and Francis again, he wanted to make it count. “I wish I had… I went to a therapist here at school for a couple of years. She had me write you both letters. I just wanted to say thanks, I guess.”

It felt weirdly appropriate, getting to thank them today. Warlock shifted, nodded at Pepper, and prepared to make his escape. They all looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Surely it would be the kindest thing for all of them.

Jeremy stopped him. “Wait, Warlock. We were going to go out to dinner. If you’re the original adopted child, you should come.”

Warlock untucked his hair from behind his ear so it fell across his face. “Oh, thank you. But my parents are here somewhere, and…”

“So are ours.” Pepper’s mouth was set now, the way it had been the day she told off most of the rugby team for having a go at Warlock’s hair. “Today is about us though, not them. They’ll muddle along.”

Adam looked distant, eyebrows drawn. “I expect my parents should be here. They could talk with yours. I bet they could probably find something to talk about.”

“Go on, Warlock, is it?” Brian spoke up. “You might as well come along. I think Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally made a reservation for a few extra people anyway, didn’t you?” and looked at them meaningfully. Brian somehow gave a clear impression of both thinking the others were absurd for wanting to include some stranger and also determination not to let the invitation be turned down, now that it had been extended.

Warlock dug a heel in the dirt as he tried to figure out how to put this. “Look, it’s not. It’s just.” He tucked his hair back angrily again. “Na- Crowley?” he waited for the sunglasses to nod. “doesn’t need to listen to my dad’s… Well…”

“Oh.” Pepper scowled as she connected his dots. “Neither do you, you know.”

Warlock smiled at her, more genuinely than he had expected. “I know. It depends what job offers I get though.”

“What are you planning to go into, my boy?” The gardener – Aziraphale – was just as kind and very slightly unnerving as he used to be. 

Warlock shrugged. “I thought… well, I studied Ecology. Eventually I want a graduate degree – maybe law – but for now I’d like a job campaigning against climate cha- for the planet, you know. Only it needs to be a job, because I don’t want to go back to the States.”

The adults and Adam all had the same look on their faces. Warlock had the weirdest feeling that they were all planning to fix his job woes… somehow.

“You know,” Adam blinked innocent blue eyes at Warlock, “you should check. There could have been some mix-up with the paperwork. You might be a British legal resident already. You grew up here, after all.”

Warlock felt a shiver down his spine. He’d forgotten about this, the times… Crowley and Aziraphale had cleaned up after him a little too well. He remembered, with sudden clarity, being young – four, maybe, or five – and maliciously shoving a priceless heirloom of some sort off the landing of the stairs, the triumph of watching it shatter when it hit the floor. The pattern the shards had made was, he had thought, far more beautiful than the ugly jug itself. Nanny had snapped her fingers and taken him up to his room and when they went down for dinner the jug was sitting right where it had always been. 

Now though, he drew on the memories of that, straightening his spine. He’d learned to treat them like people anyway. You couldn’t let anyone walk all over you, just because they were a little bit… talented. “I’ll go through the legal process all the same thank you. I only need another year of residency to apply if I end up with a job in Scotland.” He looked Adam square in the face. “It’s boring to get everything handed to you because of who your father is.”

He observed the fallout from this (he had thought) straightforward remark. Crowley and Aziraphale flinched. Pepper jumped. Brian and Jeremy cocked their heads towards him at matching angles. 

Adam laughed. “Alright, if you insist. It’s nothing to do with your father though. If Crowley and Aziraphale raised you too, that makes us a sort of siblings though, doesn’t it? And if you don’t look out for your siblings, who do you look out for?”

Warlock ducked his head to hide an unexpected grin. “Look, I have to go meet my parents but,” he glanced at Adam. Too bad the pretty boy seemed set on being siblings. “I could meet up with you guys later, if you want. I was planning to sneak up on the cathedral rooftop after hours. It’s a gorgeous view and there’s hardly any guards.”

“What-” Aziraphale darted a glance at Na- Crowley before he caught himself. “Which cathedral is this then, Warlock?”

“Do you really go by Warlock?” Adam was watching him closely, and it gave Warlock the courage to admit with a shrug, “I don’t really mind it. It’s a little weird, but so am I, you know? It’s not even the weirdest thing about me.”

“No, trust me,” Pepper said, “It definitely is the weirdest thing about you.”

Remembering his manners (taught by this very man) Warlock looked back to Aziraphale. “St Giles. They give rooftop tours during the day. It’s perfectly safe.”

Adam gave him a crooked grin. Warlock slid a little deeper. 

“Crowley, he… isn’t very comfortable on consecrated ground. But we thought we might go to the observatory. Here, give me your number and I’ll call you when we leave Wensley and Pepper’s parents.”

Warlock blinked but. Well, the cute boy had asked for his number. It would be churlish not to give it. And consecrated ground… Maybe it was one of those reaction-against-church family-things that went just a little bit farther than normal. He told Adam his number. His phone buzzed a moment later with a picture of Adam and a small terrier from a strange number. 

“That’s me and Dog,” Adam informed him. “In case you’re one of those people like Brian, forever needing contact pictures and Instagram followers and…” he trailed off, smiling fondly at Brian’s protests.

Warlock had never been good at holding back in front of a cute boy and he did owe Brian one for shouting at him. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Jeremy laughed. Brian rolled his eyes, but he smiled. Adam’s grin caught in one corner of his mouth and then spread across his face.

Then he heard his father’s voice, not too far away. “How long does it take him to find a teacher? We’re going to be late for our reservation.” Warlock rolled his eyes and glanced at Adam. “Later,” he offered, and hared off to intercept his parents. He didn’t want to hear what his father might have to say about Nanny being a godfather now (assuming his father recognized them at all, of course) or how Crowley and Aziraphale’s apparent relationship might have… Well. Warlock was just going to stop the whole Nature versus Nurture debate before his father opened it. If he was lucky, they’d have dinner and then he could load both parents on a plane before Adam called.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could admit, afterwards, that he hadn’t really expected the call. The hope of it buzzed in his veins through dinner and made him turn down dessert in his rush to drop his parents off, but he was already casting his mind towards the flat and the book he was halfway through when his phone buzzed as he drove away from the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter two! I'm almost done with the last chapter, so assuming that I stay on track, it should be finished well before I finish posting the first six.

Warlock could admit, afterwards, that he hadn’t really expected the call. The hope of it buzzed in his veins through dinner and made him turn down dessert in his rush to drop his parents off, but he was already casting his mind towards the flat and the book he was halfway through when his phone buzzed as he drove away from the airport. 

He waited until he was at a light to pull it out and blushed at Adam’s contact picture. A dog. Warlock was so fucked. He switched lanes and headed towards the observatory instead. 

There were four children – well, college-aged young people – an angel, and a demon seated in the Bentley. Crowley had parked and leaned his head back on the headrest. 

“He was the one you thought was the antichrist?”

One thing Aziraphale and Crowley had always agreed upon was how refreshing it was that the Them didn’t hesitate to ask whatever might be on their minds. Not to the two of them, at least. 

“Eleven years we spent there. As Nanny and the Gardener and then as his tutors.”

“What was he like?” Adam sounded curious. Crowley supposed he would be. He wondered if it had never occurred to Adam to ask before or if the young man had been less willing to ask his godfathers than they had guessed.

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. “Depressingly good at maths.”

Wensleydale laughed. “He still is. He was in my econ class.”

“He’s a good egg,” Pepper chimed in. “I heard he’s the one who tutored Ben into passing Barnes’s Calc.”

Wensleydale smirked. “I heard that wasn’t the only thing he tutored Ben in.” He shrugged and continued, “He told me that he wants to work on climate change from an economic perspective. He has some really interesting ideas.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale blink. The angel looked as surprised as he felt, being blindsided by their old charge. “Were you two close with him then?”

Wensleydale shrugged. “It’s not like we were best friends or anything. Just, you know, there aren’t too many people out there who want to hold an intelligent conversation about numbers in the middle of a party.”

Pepper nodded. “We were the queerest kids in a couple of classes, so you know. We stuck together. But all that really means is that we ran in the same crowd.”

“What are the odds?” asked Brian, contemplative, and then, “do you think he suspects, well, any of it?”

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at one another. It was Adam who spoke up. 

“’Course he suspects something. Why else would you tell a 22-year-old not to change your paperwork so that you’re an English resident?”

When he put it that way… Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. “He always seemed perfectly normal to me. Too normal for- Well, you know.”

“Speaking of,” and although Adam didn’t really throw his powers around too often – as far as they could tell – when the boy used that conversational gambit it always turned out that it was less an ironic subject changer and more a statement of something that was now a fact. “Speaking of, I thought that we might hold some sort of party this year. Just us and Newt and Anathema and Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, and maybe Warlock if he’d like to join. Something to celebrate the apocalypse being over for eleven years now.”

“With Warlock?” Brian had grown away from the old blind support. “How would you go about explaining that? ‘Oh, well, you see, it was going to be the apocalypse, but luckily you distracted my godparents long enough and I managed to avert it through the power of adoption?”

“There’s no call to be sarcastic.” Adam’s voice was prim. 

Crowley smirked across at his counterpart. “He gets that from you, angel.”

Aziraphale laid a hand on top of Crowley’s. Eleven years were not enough to grow used to this, not after six thousand years of barely touching, and Crowley turned his hand palm up and laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s. “But Brian gets it from you, my dear boy.”

“Sickening,” Pepper drawled cheerfully. “Oh, look, here’s Warlock. Oi, Warlock!”

Warlock turned back and squinted down the sidewalk back the way he had come. There was a creak as Adam swung his door open and stepped out onto the pavement. “Hullo, Warlock. I’m glad you could make it.”

They had relaxed into looking at the stars when it happened. Warlock wandered up behind Pepper and said, with a sideways glance at Crowley and Aziraphale, “You know, a couple weeks after they left, my family got dragged out to the fields of Meggido and then ended up getting recalled to the States. Right after they left.” 

Pepper hummed, trying not to panic. Why hadn’t he picked Adam or his old tutors for this conversation?

“There was this creepy old guy there, in the Middle East. Smelled awful and you should have seen his teeth. He went on about some dog I was supposed to have and didn’t I hear voices, wasn’t there anything I’d like to do right about now.” Warlock was staring at a telescope, but Pepper would lay even money that he wasn’t paying attention to the view. “I told him that I really just wanted to go home. But somehow I ended up in the States instead.” He withdrew his eye from the viewfinder and looked at her. “You know who they really are, and what actually went on, don’t you?”

Pepper bit her lip. “It sounds crazy.”

He offered her a crooked grin. “My parents named me Warlock. On purpose.”

Pepper’s lips twitched in spite of herself. “Would you believe if I told you… Some kind of Mafia?”

Warlock gave her a look. “I had sort of put it all out of my mind, but I got to thinking during dinner. I… It’s not just that. Please don’t lie to me, Pepper.”

Pepper suddenly remembered seeing Warlock one night at a pub. She’d been out with a couple of women from the school and she’d spotted him. He’d spent the entire night avoiding people they knew, preferring to nurse one beer half the night while he worked his way through some homework. When a group of rowdy drunks had started jeering at Pepper and her friends though, he’d materialized next to her with the bouncer. When the drunks had been disposed of, she’d tried to thank him, but he’d brushed her off, already on his way back to his table. “You’d’ve done the same for me. If we don’t stick up for each other, who will?”

Pepper sighed. “Warlock, I’d never believe it myself if I wasn’t there.”

“They used to do impossible things, Pepper. For eleven years, I grew up with impossible things happening out of the corner of my eyes. Do you know how disappointed I was when I didn’t get a Hogwarts letter?” He laughed, as if it were a joke, but Pepper nodded. 

“It’s not- It’s not Hogwarts, Warlock. It’s… well, it’s a lot more religious than that.”

Warlock blinked at her. “OK.”

Adam was busy roughhousing with the other two in front of the window and Crowley and Aziraphale were clearly having a moment. She sighed. “Look, they thought you were the Antichrist.”

“What?” She supposed she should be grateful he had any normal reactions. 

“They were wrong, of course. Adam was the Antichrist, but he decided not to end the world.” She fought back a shiver. “Crowley is a demon. Aziraphale’s an angel.”

Warlock blinked. “That still doesn’t tell me what pronouns I’m supposed to be using for them.”

She snorted, an ugly sound that exploded out of her, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. “That’s what you’re hung up on, in all of this?”

“For G-” She gave him credit for being quick enough on the uptake not to mention God just yet. Not in this crowd. “Pepper, they raised me. Whatever else they may or may not be, I think I owe them some common courtesy for that. They’re the only ones who ever tried.”

It was Brian who spoke. “Pepper, what’s… ?”

“He asked.” Pepper smirked. “So I told him. ‘It was going to be the apocalypse, but because you distracted his heavenly and satanic influences, Adam turned out human enough to save the world instead of sacrificing it.’ You know, like you suggested.”

“And he started talking about common courtesy.” Brian’s eyes rolled.

“That would be Aziraphale’s influence,” offered Adam, sotto voce. 

“And as I told Pepper, I’m less concerned with who’s an Angel and who’s the Antichrist than with misgendering the few adults I’ve always had cause to respect.” He wrinkled his nose. “In retrospect, this explains a lot about my education. I always wondered why my tutors were so taken with the Book of Revelations.”

Crowley laughed. “Honestly, Warlock, none of your human pronouns really cover-”

“Any pronouns will do, my boy.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “No preference. I believe the term is agender?”

Pepper was only half aware of the others turning with her to stare at Aziraphale, mouths agape. 

“All these years you’ve been letting us use he/him. You never once thought to mention?” 

As far as Pepper knew, she was the only one who had been offered that conversation so far. She winced at the barely hidden hurt in Brian’s voice.

“What do you mean, ‘none of your human pronouns’? Do you think being agender is a ‘specially demonic thing to be?” Pepper wasn’t going to let even Aziraphale and Crowley hurt Brian. Even if they weren’t aware that they were doing it.

Crowley, at least, could see that there was something more going on here. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, Pepper. Just that, for Aziraphale and me, agender is the default. We’re sexless. That’s never going to be the case for a human.”

“Sex and gender are two different things.” Warlock was staring Crowley down.

“Alright. We still don’t generally bother with either.”

Pepper huffed a sigh. “You just accidentally mash up your gender presentation like the coolest genderqueer godfather anyone could ask for?”

Crowley hesitated. “I haven’t been keeping up with the terms. I just don’t like anyone getting complacent.”

Pepper shrugged elaborately and tried to come up with her next sentence to keep attention off Brian.

Brian knocked into a tripod leg loudly as they stepped back, attracting the attention of the entire room. 

Pepper watched Aziraphale connect the dots laid out in front of him. “Oh! My dear- my dear.” He waved a hand and the tripod re-adjusted. “Are you alright?” 

Brian shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Adam crossed his arms. “Aside from the fact that you just tripped over a giant telescope hard enough to almost knock it over?”

Brian blushed. “Yeah, well. I’ve always been clumsy.”

“I had a friend like that.” Pepper felt everyone relax a little as Warlock gave Brian some room to slide out of the spotlight. “I watched her walk right into the door some guy was holding open for her one day. She claimed it was on purpose, to protest the patriarchy,” he shook his head, “but it wasn’t.”

“You can’t know that.” Pepper frowned. “Or do you think it’s so strange, that someone would be against the patriarchy?”

Warlock’s face was fond. “If she’d meant to protest the patriarchy, she’d have walked into the guy holding the door so hard he fell over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really excited to have Brian use they/them pronouns as a mirror to Pollution. I am starting to think that I'm some sort of agender or genderqueer, but I haven't begun to think through all of the ramifications and things, so if I do something thoughtless with Brian (definitely if I have a typo where I use he/him, PLEASE) let me know. The next chapter will almost definitely go up over the weekend. Apologies for any Americanisms I've used. I know they're all very British, but unfortunately I'm not. As usual, anything inadvertently racism/sexist/cissexist/etc please let me know so I can do better next time!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper crossed her arms at the supernatural pair in front of her. They cowered, just a little. “Which one of you did it?”
> 
> Crowley spread his arms obsequiously. “Pepper! Did what?”
> 
> Her head tilted forward of its own accord. “You know. Adam just told me that Warlock thinks he meddled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, any accidental racism/sexism/cissexism/etc and most especially any accidental misgendering of Brian, please let me know so I can avoid doing that next time and try to fix it here. 
> 
> Any Americanisms that managed to make their way into this are things I'm also happy to correct if you call me out on them. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Warlock turned his phone over in his hands, trying to figure out how to phrase this text. How did one go about asking if someone had kept their word without sounding like you were accusing them of going back on it? All the same, he shouldn’t have managed this many offers. Four job offers. He had been playing the game religiously since before high school (he was a fast enough learner. It barely took a month for him to figure out that Virginia would never be for him), but this was ridiculous even so. 

As if the other boy had read his mind, his phone buzzed. He turned it over and swiped it open. 

Adam wanted to know if Warlock was really sure that Adam wasn’t allowed to help. Especially since, as Adam saw it, he’d actually stolen Warlock’s legal resident status. 

Warlock cracked a smile at the phone. 

Warlock didn’t need help, he reiterated, and then explained how many offers he had already gotten. Did Adam promise it hadn’t been him?

Adam did. 

Warlock flipped through the company websites on his phone again. It seemed sort of crazy to believe that he’d gotten these jobs on his own merits.

Pepper crossed her arms at the supernatural pair in front of her. They cowered, just a little. “Which one of you did it?”

Crowley spread his arms obsequiously. “Pepper! Did what?”

Her head tilted forward of its own accord. “You know. Adam just told me that Warlock thinks he meddled.”

She caught a pair of fleeting smirks. “What, both of you!”

Aziraphale resettled his glasses. “Well, but the job market is so terrible these days, and we did rather drop Warlock when we found out he wasn’t the Antichrist.”

Crowley looked like Christmas had come early. “You’re leaving out the best part, angel.” He turned to Pepper. “(Contributing to the puritanical demands of capitalism and defining self-worth by productivity is very demonic.)”

“I’m sure.”

“But even though we both tried to meddle, he’d already gotten the jobs!”

Pepper glared for another minute. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you for real?”

Adam watched the car drive down the lane. He’d known Warlock had picked the Oxfordshire position (it was easy enough to know, if Adam thought about it. The other boy should never have been able to surprise him at Pepper’s and Wensley’s graduation), but Warlock’s choice to rent a house in Tadfield had come as a surprise when he’d realized it. He’d gone back and forth about texting Warlock, but it didn’t do to remind people too often just how much Adam knew. Even Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know the full extent of it. Even Pepper and Brian and Wensley. 

Instead, he managed to just happen to be walking Dog in the lane as Warlock was about to drive down it now. He patted his thigh. “Here, Dog!” Dog trotted over and sat beside the lane next to him, out of Warlock’s way if the other man wanted to drive past without stopping. Instead, the window rolled down.

Warlock’s grin seemed to wrinkle his whole face into waves of laughter. “Pardon me, good sir, but would the village of Tadfield be somewhere close by?”

Adam smiled at the posh accent the other had put on and stepped closer. “Quite close, kind sir- Dog, stay down- quite close. Simply put, you are, in fact,” Adam wasn’t sure who he was aping. There had to be someone. The accent he had put on was plummy. “Directly in the middle of the village of Tadfield.” It wasn’t Shadwell. Perhaps Madame- No, he realized, it was Bertie Wooster. A fictional character after all. 

“Hello Adam,” and now Warlock smiled sweetly. 

Adam squashed his heart. He wasn’t allowed to want people. Things he wanted were too prone to accidentally being thought about just right and becoming his. 

The fact that he had melted the moment the other boy refused his help was his problem, not Warlock’s.

“Won’t you allow me to give you and Dog a lift into town? You can help me find the cottage I’m renting. If you’re familiar with the area it’ll be much easier for you to find it than me. I’ve been driving in circles twenty minutes already.”

If Adam told him that was a lie he would have to admit to spying. “Alright. You’re sure you won’t mind Dog’s muddy paws all over everything?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I’ll clean them anyway,” Adam decided, and concentrated just right. “Dog!”

Dog, muddy paws newly cleaned, jumped in.

Warlock watched his boxes sitting by the wall. He knew he would feel better if he unpacked, but. Well, there was just too much of it. He scowled. There was a sharp rap on the door. He didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood. Aside from Adam and Pepper and Jeremy, but Adam had already been. He shoved off the wall and walked down to the door. 

He’d overheard Pepper telling anecdotes once, about a man in their village who wrote editorials in the paper. She’d been expansive that night, wild gestures and laughter, as she imitated his views on American tourists. Maybe he’d come to try and chase Warlock out.

He opened the door, privately determined to sound just as British as the stranger on the other side. 

It was Pepper and Adam and friends. Jeremy was there, and their friend Brian, and a woman Warlock was certain he’d never met before in his life. 

“I- Come in? I’d offer you tea, but I haven’t unpacked the kitchen.” He would ask them to take a seat, but his furniture (not the bookshelves, he’d had those, but the things he’d had to ask his parents to buy, furniture to sit on, to sleep on, to eat on) was being delivered tomorrow. 

“We thought we’d come offer to help you unpack.” It was Jeremy. “Adam said he met you and then didn’t offer, like a heathen, but when Brian’s family moved across town it took them weeks to unpack, and how hard can it be to unpack your books or dishes for you? You can always rearrange them later, but at least they’ll be out.”

Warlock swallowed. “I- That’s very kind. I couldn’t possibly ask- We barely know each other!” He met the eyes of the older woman. 

“Hello. I’m Anathema. Now you know us.” Something about her reminded him of Crowley as his Nanny. A certain immovability to her. He stepped back. 

“Thank you.”

He found himself in the kitchen with Brian, carefully unwrapping what dishware he’d collected. 

“This is a beautiful mug.” 

“Yeah, I have a pretty good mug collection. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of my silverware.” Warlock pulled a face and then looked at Pepper’s friend. “What about you? I know that Pepper was into gender and queer theory and sociology, and Adam said he studied agriculture, Jeremy’s an accountant… We must be skewing the data for our whole generation, knowing what we want to do and finding jobs doing it.”

Brian blinked and smiled. “I’m the one pulling us back to normal. I studied literature, but I don’t really want to teach, writing isn’t my thing, I don’t want to write marketing copy...”

Warlock nodded, clinking plates as he piled another on top of the mismatched stack.

“Wha-” Brian’s face said that the decision hadn’t been made yet to ask this question. “What are your pronouns? You asked Crowley and Aziraphale, but no one asked you.”

Warlock blinked. “Oh, he/him. You?”

Brian’s face was incomprehensible. There was a mumble that might have been pronouns and then, “You said that Crowley was a woman, as your Nanny.” 

“Yeah.” Warlock scraped at the tape holding the next box closed.

“And then you said they were your tutors.”

Warlock turned to his companion. “Yeah, here, sorry, do you have the scissors?”

Brian handed them over. “They said that they wore different disguises. How did you recognize them?”

Warlock shrugged as he finally opened the box. “Oh, thank god.” He grabbed a scrunchy that had been bundling his silverware together and tied back his hair. “Oh, it’s so nice having that off my neck. I can die happy now.”

Brian snorted. “Why do you wear it if you don’t like it?”

Warlock shrugged. “I like the way it looks.” He smiled. “I don’t want to be mistaken for one of those Americans who wants to keep trans women out of women’s bathrooms. This is a simple and effective way of getting my point across, and when I get bored I can try new hairstyles.” He smiled. “I like it. It just drives me crazy sometimes anyway.”

Brian snorted. Warlock opened a drawer and dumped the silverware in and then pulled out the pans that had been underneath. 

“As for how I recognized them…” Warlock shrugged. “They had very distinctive ways of carrying themselves. I wasn’t old enough to have - they never taught me that gender was supposed to be some immutable thing and it isn’t like they were ever that good at disguise.” He fiddled with a pan lid to avoid looking at Brian. “They were the most important adults in my life. I wasn’t going to tell them they hadn’t fooled me – it might have made them sad – but it’s not like it wasn’t pretty easy to see.”

Brian’s face was reflected in the lid, looking at him. “And your parents?”

Warlock shrugged violently before realizing that Brian wasn’t asking why the Dowlings weren’t the most important adults in his life. The answer was the same anyway. “My father spent half his time in the US anyway. Mum was always out with her friends. I- Crowley and Aziraphale were the people she hired so she didn’t have to pay attention to where I was and what I was doing. She wasn’t going to pay attention to them. They were servants.”

They put away dishes silently for a few minutes, the only noise the crashes of pans and a murmur from the next room as Adam discovered his books.

“I thought Americans didn’t have class the way we do. They like to claim they don’t.”

“Yeah, we don’t have a servant class,” Warlock turned up his nose. “We have slaves for that. I mean, not since AOC’s prison reform went through, but in recent memory. And race. And there was all that student loan debt. They have class problems. They just don’t like to admit they aren’t better than u- you.”

There was a wrinkle on Brian’s face that said Warlock’s slip had been noticed. “Can’t choose a side?”

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

He pretended not to watch Brian go still considering that. Opened another cabinet and found the tea where they’d left it on the counter, stuffed the spices in the cabinet next to that. As he was untangling the cord for the tea kettle, preparatory to actually offering everyone some tea as a thank you for their hard work, Brian spoke again. “They/them. I don’t mind he/him, but I prefer they/them pronouns.”

“Alright,” Warlock plugged the kettle in and turned with a smile. “I’ll do my best to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the gratuitous farming. I just love farming a lot and don't often get to talk/write about it, and when I was trying to imagine what Adam might do with himself, farming seemed like it might appeal to him for many of the same reasons it appeals to me. It's solid, it's steady, it's routine. It's quiet and reliable and there's only so much it matters on a broader scale, but for those animals you hold absolute power. The book describes Adam as being king of his small world or something, and I think of farming that way. But at the same time, those animals are frustrating and ornery and you have to be quiet and still yourself in order to work with them. You can only force them to do so much (I guess Adam could force them to do a great deal more, but he won't) and then it's down to how well you can communicate in a way that they understand and care to listen. It requires a fair amount of empathy and seeing things from the animal's POV, and I think Adam might be drawn to that.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock blushed a little. “Well, I always assumed he could. But if you thought you were raising the antichrist… wait, was I supposed to take everything the two of you said seriously?” He shook his head. His hair was in a half-bun today, and the loose part fell over his shoulders as he laughed. “Na- Crowley, did you really- well, I guess maybe if I’d actually had the power to end the world I wouldn’t have assumed it was all metaphors and sarcasm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this chapter. It's just blatant wish-fulfillment. What is it people say on tumblr? My kink is Warlock surrounding himself with found family who love him and tease him and enjoy him being himself.

Adam wasn’t sure how the tradition had started. He didn’t think he’d used his powers to make it happen, although the fear of letting those powers get away from him the way they had in the days before Armageddon always lurked in the shadows of his mind. As long as it was confined to Pepper and Wensleydale and Brian he could be fairly confident that it had started the same way anyone’s friends decide to hang around them. Either he had invited them over often enough that they’d gotten in the habit even without an invitation or they were the sort of friend who always assumes they’re welcome and shows up accordingly. (In this case, as Adam’s worry about subconscious use of his powers attested, they really were welcome.) 

It was the question of how Warlock had started trailing along that stumped him. Everyone was settling into their working lives. Wensley was cheerfully putting the finances of the whole town in order, Pepper had gotten work writing for a human rights blog, and even Brian was working that summer at the local ice cream shop while they applied for one odd job they weren’t sure about after another. (One of the things Adam’s powers were actually useful for was gender. He almost always knew if he thought about it. Pronouns, though, were trickier. In this case, he’d known that Brian was genderqueer, but had only learned that they used they/them pronouns when he’d started to go ask Warlock where he wanted the pillows that would presumably belong on a sofa which had yet to appear.)

Warlock had been in town two weeks, but it was barely two days in that he began showing up at Adam’s farm just after five with the rest of them. Adam couldn’t even say for sure who had brought him, although from the amount of time the other boy spent nodding at Wensleydale (“Should I call you Wensley or Jeremy?” he’d asked that first evening) as the latter talked about numbers until Adam’s head was spinning, Adam assumed Wensleydale was involved. 

Adam was just finishing the feeding for the day when a vintage Bentley rolled in. Adam smiled at the pair of beings who got out. “Hello! I think Warlock’s just inside doing beverages. You might go offer him a pair of hands.”

Crowley sauntered away towards the house while Aziraphale turned to him. 

“My dear boy. Can I help you with anything?”

Adam’s lips twitched. “Thank you, Aziraphale. I’m all set. And I wouldn’t want to get your clothes dirty anyway,” he opened the door of the feedroom and tossed the empty buckets in without looking. He’d straighten up in the morning. “It’s a lovely shirt you’re wearing today.” Someone had put the angel in a T-shirt.

Aziraphale stretched his bare arms out, marveling at them. “Yes, isn’t it? Our neighbor’s boy gifted it to me. He’s rather taken with Crowley, and he said he was worried I’d make myself ill in the heat. Absurd, of course, but,” he smiled again, studying a scandalously bare elbow, “I confess this tee-shirt is a rather… liberating experience.” 

Adam ducked his head to hide a grin. “Well, it suits you.”

Warlock, meanwhile, was negotiating beverages with Crowley, who (never could resist a quick temptation) offered the salt shaker towards the lemonade. “Here, don’t you want some?” and as Warlock shook his head, “Not even for whoever has gotten on your nerves?”

Warlock rolled his eyes (the cheek! Crowley had raised him!) and took the salt shaker with a smile. “Yeah, actually, now that you mention it. Which one is yours?”

There was laughter at the door from Pepper and Wensleydale. Crowley supposed his face might be laughable. 

“You know,” it was Wensleydale, “I was starting to wonder if Warlock was raised by Aziraphale alone.”

Warlock and Crowley both spoke up at once.

“Aziraphale can be sarcastic!”

“I can teach manners! He was a toddler!”

They looked at each other. Warlock blushed a little. “Well, I always assumed he could. But if you thought you were raising the antichrist… wait, was I supposed to take everything the two of you said seriously?” He shook his head. His hair was in a half-bun today, and the loose part fell over his shoulders as he laughed. “Na- Crowley, did you really- well, I guess maybe if I’d actually had the power to end the world I wouldn’t have assumed it was all metaphors and sarcasm.”

“All what was metaphors and sarcasm?”

Warlock grinned at Adam. (That was interesting. Crowley was very interested here. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had raised Warlock for nearly eleven years and now been in Adam’s life as long. It was just- Well, it could be demonic to take an interest in a budding romance! He could- He would never mess with this to make romance any messier than it already was. Not for these two. But maybe a minor miracle wouldn’t go amiss. He’d have to observe them further.)

“You know,” he glanced past Adam to include Aziraphale in the teasing. “all that heavy-handed ‘you’ll crush the world beneath your heel’ and ‘we love and respect all of God’s creatures, even brother slug.’” He smirked. “I mean, as a white boy, maybe. But not as a metaphor? As something in my everyday life?"

He frowned severely at Pepper and Wensleydale, who weren't even trying to hide their amusement. "I was seven, I wasn’t going to go around being an asshole to everyone. I had a list for a while, before I decided he was being silly, who I was going to kill, just in case I came into this mysterious power or dad brought me my first gun from the US or whatever,” Crowley felt his face go white (thank Go- Sa- somebody that they had been so incompetent) “but it was composed of, like, the Butler who tried to slide his hand up Nanny’s skirt when he thought no one could see, and the guards who used to go out and shoot at Gardener Francis’s pigeons and laugh when he told them off. They raised me to care about the people who cared about me, and saving or destroying the world never quite fit…” He trailed off and Crowley fought with the sudden lump in his throat. He shouldn’t be- to hell- heaven- to somewhere with that, he was proud of his kid.

He wiped a tear off his cheek without even bothering to be surreptitious about it and caught Aziraphale’s eye across the room. His angel looked just as moved as he was.

Pepper reached up and patted Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You did good with him.” She glanced across the kitchen at Crowley and smirked. “And you did bad.”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed, because it was that or cry in earnest over their boy. He stepped over to Warlock and wrapped him in a hug before he could think twice about it. He’d expected the boy to resist a little, even if it was just for show, expected to be pushed away (they had fallen out of his life so suddenly and completely), but Warlock turned (he was as tall as Crowley now) and buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder as he latched on. Crowley swore he heard a whispered “Nanny” and tried not to let it break his heart. Instead, Warlock stepped back after a minute and lifted the pitcher.

“Lemonade, anyone?” His voice was bright and shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. Anything I said or did that was racist/sexist/ableist/etc. and particularly any time that I refer to Brian using he/him instead of they/them, it was an accident, please let me know so I can try to do better.
> 
> I also welcome correction for any blatant Americanisms.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I totally accidentally only posted half of yesterday's chapter yesterday. I'm so sorry. Here's the angsty other half. (Yeah, that's definitely the chapter summary. "The angsty other half")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again (and always) if I deal badly with anything or say something racist/sexist/etc., please let me know. If I misgender Brian, PLEASE let me know.

It was the beginning of July when it happened. Warlock told his job he would be working remotely for the week (they assumed he was going home for Independence Day) and buried himself in his room to cry. It wasn’t the first argument he’d had with his father about this, just the worst. And his mother usually stayed out of it. 

On the third day someone knocked on his door while he was making himself tea. He ignored it. The knocking got louder. It wasn’t Crowley and Aziraphale. He’d talked to them the night before. He continued to ignore it until there was a shout through the mail slot. 

“Warlock? I know you’re in there! I’m not an idiot.”

Warlock stalked over to the door and yanked it open. “Very good, Adam. I’m glad you know I’m here. Very clever of you with the car out front and all. Do you know why I’m not taking visitors too, clever boy like you?” He was nearly hissing with the effort to be angry instead of crying again. 

Adam looked taken aback. Warlock refused to feel bad about it. 

“I just… I wanted to make sure that you were OK. It’s not like I can read your mind or anything.”

Warlock concentrated on breathing. “You know, the rest of the world lets people alone when they make it clear we want to be left alone.” 

It wasn’t true. Warlock wasn’t even sure that he wanted to be left alone.

Adam’s gaze dropped and his cheeks reddened. Warlock sighed. 

“You might as well come in. The kettle’s on if you want tea.” He turned and walked back towards the kitchen, leaving the door open. 

A hesitant clomp of Adam’s boots said the other man was following him.

Warlock got there and pulled down a second mug. “Sit.” He made the tea and turned to find Adam slumped in a chair looking thoroughly miserable. He sighed and placed the mugs on the table, sitting down across from Adam. (Warlock got his posture from Aziraphale.) 

“I’m sorry for barging in. I was afraid… I dunno. That we’d done something, or that you were… It’s not like you know anyone in the area.” Adam’s eyes were on his tea. “But you’re completely right, I need to respect your boundaries.”

Warlock felt himself melting in spite of his best efforts. “You have my number. You could text me.” 

Adam winced and blushed. “I should have texted you.”

And even though it was true that Adam couldn’t demand to be let into everything in Warlock’s head, he did want to talk about it to someone who was actually here, and he had specifically told Aziraphale and Crowley not to make the drive. “I told my dad, if he continues to erase my bisexuality and to misgender people then I wasn’t going to take his calls. And then,” he paused to breathe and attempt to smooth his face where it was threatening to crumple, “mum got in on it and said that I needed to cut him some more slack.” He looked at Adam. “I’ve been cutting him slack since I was old enough to know that Nanny and Francis weren’t my parents! And her.” He pressed his lips together. “We aren’t talking.” 

Adam looked up at him from beneath his curls. “Are you a hugger?”

Warlock shrugged. 

Adam nodded and looked down at his tea again like it might hold answers. “Have you talked to Crowley and Aziraphale about it? I don’t real-” He paused, like he was listening, and then shook his head. “I still feel like I stole the decent parents and left you with the substandard ones.” He pulled a face. “I can’t tell what they’re thinking.”

It took a moment for Warlock to process that Adam had just tried to eavesdrop on his parents for him.

“Your dad is in meetings. Your mum’s,” he paused. “She’s in meetings too. She’s looking for a loan to start a company. I don’t think your dad knows.”

“I thought you couldn’t read minds?” Apparently he had underestimated the skillset of the Antichrist. 

“No, it’s not… It isn’t reading minds, it’s more, like.” Adam took a sip of his tea. “It’s more of a situational awareness. I can tell where they are and what they’re doing. Like, I can get a general read on, I dunno. I wouldn’t be able to tell you if Aziraphale is thinking of having sushi for lunch but I can tell that he loves sushi.”

Warlock nodded slowly. “So not specific thoughts, but you can tell their… the way people orient ourselves to things?”

He watched Adam consider that. “More or less. It’s useful for farming. I can tell when a sheep is sick if I think about it. I can tell where a chicken is hoarding her eggs.” He bit his lip and Warlock realized suddenly how much Adam was putting himself out there. 

“Cool. So can you tell how much I secretly hate you?” He watched Adam’s head jerk up before he caught the little smirk on Warlock’s face. 

“Jeez, Warlock.” He sighed. Warlock prayed that Adam continued to not notice Warlock’s crush.

“Jeremy said that you don’t make friends a lot.” Jeremy had said more than that while trying to convince Warlock to come hang out at Adam’s with them. Warlock had the feeling that Jeremy was trying to set them up with no concrete proof which genders Adam might or might not be interested in. Warlock was a little bit certain that he was setting himself up for heartbreak by going along with it, but he would get over that too, eventually.

Adam raised his hands. “I’m… It’s easier with people who understand. It’s difficult to pretend to be normal all the time, you know? Or, not difficult exactly,”

“But tiring.”

Adam nodded, looking surprised. “Yes. That.”

Warlock nodded. “And I expect it’s more tiring since you have so much more information about all of us and feel like you can’t share even the amount of information that we might share with each other.”

Adam nodded again. Something about the tightness to his mouth made Warlock suspect it was to avoid talking until he could be sure he wouldn’t cry. “You know, I think I am a hugger.” He offered his arms and although Adam looked like he didn’t want to, he dragged his feet around the table and slid into Warlock’s arms. It took a moment for Adam to relax into the hug. Warlock leaned in and waited it out. 

“Is this what it was like being raised by them? I saw you and Crowley hugging it out in the kitchen the other day.”

Warlock snorted and released his new friend before he made things weird. “I was a kid when they were Nanny and the gardener. How much do you remember before you were six?” He shrugged. “I mean, they were my tutors until I was almost eleven, and they clearly cared about me a lot even then, but Nanny was the only one of the four personas who really hugged me.” He took a sip of his own tea and continued. “Mum was never very good at being a mum. I thought maybe when I got old enough for her to see me as an adult, but,” he bit his lip and shrugged helplessly. “And dad’s always been useless. And rude to the people he hires. I’m relieved to not need them, I just…” 

“You’ve still got family, you know. Us, me and Pepper and Crowley and Aziraphale and Wensleydale. Brian.”

Warlock gave a watery smile and glanced around, just now realizing who he hadn’t seen today. “Don’t forget Dog. He’s a good person.”

Adam’s face flickered into a smile. “And Dog.”

Warlock nodded. “No, I know I’ve still got people.” They were relatively new. How many of them would stay if his crush on Adam messed things up? “And it’s not that I thought they were so great and irreplaceable.” He pulled a face. “It’s just the getting used to the idea that we’re actually writing each other out of our lives.” He stood up again and walked over to the cabinet. “Whiskey?”

Adam snorted. “Definitely more Crowley in you.” 

Warlock hoped his answering smile wasn’t as soft (fragile) as it felt. “There’s plenty of Aziraphale in me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% sure where I draw the lines for Adam's powers, (I'm kind of making it up as I go) and I'm afraid there's some contradiction here, but I hope no more so than in the actual book and show. I feel like Adam's refusal to use his powers to check how Warlock feels about him is about his (truly staggering) lack of self-confidence. Like, he's that sure that Warlock only tolerates him so he can hang out with Pepper and Wensley. He probably did check on Warlock before he came over and then just assumed that, if Warlock was sad, he'd like to have someone come check on him.
> 
> Because I only gave you half a chapter yesterday, I'm going to go ahead and give you next chapter today as well, once I read it over, so that will be up in a couple of hours.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock deserves to have friends, OK? They all deserve to have good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill. If I said anything ignorant, please let me know. I didn't say it because I like being ignorant. I'm particularly proud of this chapter, and I think it's because I shoehorned in the farm again. I'd be more embarrassed about it if I wasn't so darn pleased with myself.

There was a sigh of relief to Pepper’s right as Warlock followed Adam into the kitchen and she glanced sharply at Wensleydale. Warlock fluttered a hand at them and perched on a stool, back ramrod straight. (If someone had asked Pepper the day before the end of school what she knew about Warlock she would have laughed and said, “Not much.” Once Pepper knew that he had been raised by Aziraphale and Crowley, she could see it in him. The way he carried himself came from the angel. A certain rigidness of posture and morals. Crowley was in the way he teased. He was in Warlock’s sense of fairness and in his uncompromising sense of self.) Wensleydale nodded affably at Warlock. 

“You two work everything out?”

“Nothing to work out. I was sick.” And that wasn’t like any of them, Aziraphale, Crowley, or Warlock. He studied his hands as he said it. 

They sat around the table in awkward silence until the gravel outside crunched under tires. Warlock looked mildly annoyed, but Adam looked panicked. They both spoke at once, the sort of garble that took a few minutes of thinking back through to untangle. 

“I told them not to drive all this way.” 

“It’s my parents. Warlock. I mean- I swear, I didn’t invite them. You don’t have to,”

Warlock blinked, clearly also piecing together whatever Adam was saying. He must have had more context, because in the end he smiled and answered as Pepper was still sorting out Adam’s last sentence. 

“It’s alright. Adam.” And his smile crooked the way it had last semester when he ran into Pepper and Samantha, right before Samantha had whispered to Pepper that Warlock was her ex. Pepper’s idea of what had actually kept Warlock away was narrowing to the point where she now had guesses. 

“Adam? Hello Brian, Pepper. Wensley. Adam, we w- Oh.” Deirdre Young stopped in the doorway, her husband barely halting before he crashed into her. “Are we interrupting?”

Warlock waved at her from his seat. “Hullo. I’m Warlock.”

She watched him fidget until Adam got up and began pouring beverages. The first mug of tea got passed to Warlock. Adam walked up behind the other boy, resting one hand on his shoulder as he leaned to place the mug into Warlock’s hands, murmuring something in Warlock’s ear that made the other boy smile and pat Adam’s hand as he took the mug, muttering something back. Objectively, it did look damning. 

Arthur Young coughed. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Warlock.” He walked around the table and held out his hand. “I hope we’ll see you around.” He looked at Adam. 

Pepper kicked Brian, who looked like they were fighting the desperate desire to giggle. 

“You should bring him around for dinner sometime Adam.” 

Adam was bright red. “Warlock, I am so sorry. Dad, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Honey, stop pushing. Adam will introduce us when he’s ready to. Adam, we just came over to see if you had any extra eggs. I thought I’d make something interesting for your birthday next month, but I want to try it out first.”

“You know, Warlock and Adam share the same birthday.” Wensley’s look of innocence was perfunctory. “And Warlock’s parents are in America.”

Warlock’s jaw tightened and Pepper spoke up. “I think you maybe know his uncles. Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell?”

“Haven’t they gotten married yet?” Mr. Young frowned.

Pepper sighed loudly. Warlock smiled at her. “Not everyone thinks that subscribing to an outdated tradition designed to treat women like chattel is romantic, Mr. Young.” She gauged the room. She could probably get away with another sentence before anyone caught on, and it would take them away from the subject of Warlock’s parents. “You know, there are plenty of people who think marriage is only worthwhile for the tax benefits. And Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell certainly don’t need that.” Even if Crowley had told them last week that Aziraphale was being audited yet again. Wensley had looked over their taxes and then had to ask Aziraphale questions.

Wensleydale caught Warlock as he was leaving. “I hope I wasn’t out of line, with the Young’s. I got a little bit carried away; Adam thinks they’re probably your biological parents and I thought, wouldn’t it be nice for you to have a birthday with them since your parents are such rubbish. But that’s your choice, not mine.”

Warlock’s smile wobbled. Wensley felt guiltier. “No, don’t worry about it, Jeremy. They seem very nice. I was having a crap day. It’s not- I’ll be delighted if they invite me for a birthday with Adam. The thing is,” he ducked his head. “I don’t want to get in the way unless Adam wants me there.”

Wensley tried to give this the consideration it was due. “I really think he’d love to have you.” Adam needed more people in his life.

“You don’t even know if he’s straight or ace or what. Maybe he sees me as a sibling and doesn’t want to share his birthday. Siblings often object to that sort of thing I’m told.”

“He’s never dated anyone.”

“There’s nothing to say he’s not ace. Or aro. Maybe it’s part of the job description. The only person I’ve heard claim that Jesus had someone was Dan Brown.”

Wensley dropped his gaze and mumbled the next bit. “Look, if I’ve given you the impression that I’m shipping you guys or something,” he only registered the use of the fandom word after it came out of his mouth, but Warlock didn’t look like he was judging him, “It’s not that, really. I just thought. You both seem like you could use another person to care about you, in whatever way you end up working out, and I trust you both to be dependable enough to be that person.” He chewed on his lip. “Like, I’m still too chicken to ask you how you’re doing, but you came in with Adam, so I assume that he went over to your place to check on you and see how you were doing and if you wanted someone to talk to about it.” 

He glanced up but couldn’t parse the expression on Warlock’s face. He knew in his bones that Adam and Warlock could have a deeper understanding than the rest of them managed with Adam, however things turned out to be. He just didn’t want to push too hard and ruin things for them.

“I just…”

“Doesn’t Adam have you and Brian and Pepper looking out for him? And I do too.” Warlock’s mouth flickered into a smile. 

“Yes, but…” Wensley trailed off. This was where it always stumped him. How could he explain the way that even Pepper treated Adam more like he wouldn’t dare force her to do things than like he couldn’t without starting Warlock tiptoeing around Adam as well? “You’re willing to have harder conversations with him. We let Adam slide sometimes, because, you know, we can’t understand anyway. But he looks happier after you push back. Every time.”

Adam had recruited Warlock to help him plan an anti-Armeggedon party. The date was the easiest part of it, and the guest list. Warlock got to leave the invitations to Adam as well, by virtue of not having met everyone involved yet, but he was put in charge of finding activities that would suit both Pepper and a grouchy conservative ex-witchfinder. (Warlock had opened his mouth to ask before deciding that he really didn’t want to know.) 

It meant a lot of later-night brainstorming sessions after Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale (Warlock was starting to use the other boy’s surname in his head the more that he was around these people who seemed to use it exclusively) had all gone home to get ready for another work day. The quiet and the half-light and Adam’s eyes closing as he sat at the kitchen table discussing ideas with Warlock were giving Warlock some dangerous ideas. 

Adam’s hair went spiky after a day in the heat. When he started falling asleep, it was always head-first, although the rest of the time he tended to lead with his feet or his chest. His head would nod, and then his chin would come to rest on a palm, and in order to support that an elbow would be propped on the table. Warlock would excuse himself soon after the elbow appeared, worried about the day he might offer to help Adam to bed without thinking.

“I was thinking that bobbing for apples could be very thematic. And we could put the bucket on a table so the older folks don’t have to bend over.”

Adam nodded and scribbled a note, blowing up so that the errant curl dangling down his forehead fluttered up for a minute before returning to its previous position. 

“Maybe some card games? I bet N- Crowley and Aziraphale know a couple of complicated ones that could keep everyone paying attention to their cards so that Anathema and – Shadwell? – don’t get into too much trouble with each other.”

Adam shook his head as his eyelids drooped. “Crowley cheats some-Oh! Something terrible at cards.” He covered a yawn badly. The best thing about a tired Adam, in Warlock’s opinion, was that he was too tired to notice how long Warlock’s gaze was lingering.

Adam hefted another haybale and slung it towards Pepper and then wobbled around in time to catch the bale Wensleydale was heaving towards him off the hay wagon. He tossed that one towards Pepper as well and turned back to Wensleydale, who was standing empty-handed on the tailgate of the wagon. Behind him, Brian was kicking the worst of the loose hay forward. A minute later, Warlock appeared behind Pepper in the doorway of the hay barn. The weight of the hay had dragged everyone’s shoulders down over the course of the afternoon.

“So, Warlock,” Pepper still jumped down out of the barn, but even the jump echoed the exhaustion in Adam’s fingertips. “Next time Adam tells you he’s got something for Saturday if you’re interested, what are you going to say?”

Warlock looked as tired as any of them, but his face scrunched together in a grin. “Sure thing, Adam, just tell me when and where and what would be the appropriate footwear?”

Adam squashed the impulse to tell him about appropriate clothing choices for Saturday activities (preferably nothing. They wouldn’t even have to come downstairs except for food) and instead offered a tired smile back. “See? Warlock understands the lure of doing hay.”

Brian took Wensley’s proffered hand and stepped off the wagon heavily. “There is no lure of doing hay. You guys are just macho idiots.”

Pepper snorted first. “Yes, that’s it. Warlock and Adam, they go out of their way to look tough all the time.”

Warlock tossed his braid over one shoulder, coquettish. “Are you saying that I don’t look tough like this, Pepper? I think I look very manly. Adam,” Adam hoped he didn’t look too obviously lovelorn, “Do I look like I could take you out like this?”

Adam’s brain froze. He forced himself to take a breath. A fight. Yes. He was pretty sure that the person who could take him out in a fair fight hadn’t been born. He didn’t fight fair. He fluttered his eyelashes. “Why, Warlock. You should have said. I mean, normally I expect a body to take the hay out of their hair first, but since it’s my hay I could make an exception.” He brought a hand to his chest in an effort to make sure it was over-the-top enough to disguise that his mind had gone there first.

Warlock pulled a face and combed a hand over his head searching for the hay. Adam stepped closer and reached over slowly, giving Warlock plenty of time to pull away. Instead, Warlock tilted his head down to offer Adam a clearer view of the top. Adam tried to concentrate on plucking the individual leaves out without pulling Warlock’s hair and not on the feel of the hair under the pads of his fingers. The fingers themselves were raw, and Warlock's hair was silky against them in a way that didn't even irritate the hay splinters that had been left there.

“There,” he cleared his throat a little awkwardly as he stepped back. “All clear now.” Adam avoided the knowing gazes he was sure were being leveled at him from every direction. “Who wants some roast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys, amirite?


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam throws a party and Warlock finds out that Aziraphale and Crowley are only human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, I told you this was coming. This chapter carries all the warnings for Crowley and Aziraphale and Warlock talking about Armageddon and how close those two came to killing the antichrist. Warlock is a master at side-stepping ugly issues - look at chapter two when he finds out his Nanny is a literal demon and wants to know her pronouns - so he deals with it kind of sideways. If this feels like it might not be territory you want to venture into, I'll recap this chapter in the chapter notes before the last chapter, which should go up sometime before the weekend... (crosses fingers). If you read this chapter and I haven't adequately warned for something, let me know. I'd far rather spoil the story with extra warnings than not give a needed warning.

Warlock hid from Shadwell after five minutes in the unlikeable man’s company. Luckily, his position as the games runner meant that he had an excuse every time Shadwell tried to corner him, but he couldn’t imagine why Adam had invited him. He grabbed Brian after the third time Shadwell tried to ask them about finding a nice young girl and placed himself between them and Shadwell for the rest of the afternoon. Madame Tracy, when he greeted her, seemed similarly hooked on heteronormativity as a topic she thought might be popular, and Warlock found himself wondering what Adam had been thinking several times over the course of the afternoon.

Adam’s Armageddon party was shaping up to be a real success, Aziraphale thought complacently. He watched Pepper and Anathema detach from Crowley as Shadwell and Madame Tracy, ensconced safely in the backseat of Newt’s car, turned the corner and disappeared from sight. The light was beginning to stretch as evening came on and Warlock and Adam were talking as they began moving things back inside. Brian and Wensleydale were inside already, getting started cooking dinner. It was unfortunate, Aziraphale told himself without really believing it, that Shadwell and Madame Tracy had wanted to get home before it got too dark. They were going to miss out of what was shaping up to be a lovely dinner. 

Warlock broke away from Adam and appeared before Aziraphale and Crowley. “I- Do you know what Adam just told me?” His voice was louder than usual and he looked upset. 

Aziraphale glanced at Adam and then reached to touch Warlock’s shoulder. 

Warlock pulled away. “He said that he invited Shadwell and Madame Tracy because ‘They objected when Crowley and Aziraphale were going to shoot me and, you know, it wouldn’t have worked but it was nice of them to worry’.” He glanced from Crowley’s face to Aziraphale’s and back. “Did you really try to shoot him?”

Aziraphale hadn’t realized that the boys had gotten this close. Warlock was practically shaking. “My dear boy…”

“And if you weren’t wrong?” Warlock was talking to Crowley now. “If I had been the Antichrist after all, were you going to shoot me?”

Aziraphale felt that this wasn’t fair. “Crowley was never willing to pull the trigger.”

Warlock sneered. “Oh, I see, he felt better about it if it was you doing the dirty work for him?” He turned to Aziraphale. “And what was all that about how all God’s creatures deserve our love and respect? Did you think that shooting the Antichrist was likely to make him interested in listening to you?” Out of words for the moment, his lips trembled. 

Adam walked up beside him and lifted an arm to offer a hug, but Warlock pulled away from him as well. Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond.

It was Pepper who spoke up first. “They were panicked, you know. They’d spent how many years grooming you to be a terrible Antichrist and they only finally found Adam in the middle of the end of the world.” Warlock almost got away with pretending not to notice the arm she draped over his shoulder, but he had to slouch to make it work. 

Crowley spoke next, his words coming slow. “I won’t say that we never considered killing you. Weighing one life against humanity, however precious that life was to us… It felt selfish, but it was never a solution we liked.” He pulled a face. “I’m afraid that neither of us considered the idea that the Antichrist might refuse to allow us to kill him. Remember, we both saw Jesus allow himself to be crucified. It-” He broke off, his face crumpling for a moment. “It was an inhuman way to die.” 

Something about the way Warlock took his next breath told Aziraphale that it was only now hitting him, the weight of time that Crowley and Aziraphale had lived through. Warlock reached and touched the back of Adam’s hand, which turned and held his. 

“But you… You tried to kill Adam, without even talking to him first?”

Aziraphale took that question himself. He wanted badly to be holding Crowley’s hand, but he didn’t want Warlock to feel like they were united against him in any way. 

“I did. Warlock, I was in a panic. I’d been discorporated, I was working against Heaven – really against them, against their direct order – I’d inhabited Madame Tracy’s body, which I had been told only a demon could do. I knew that we shared the same basic abilities, but I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t Fall for the audacity of proving it. We barely made it to the airfield in time. The world was ending. I would say that I didn’t think there was time, but the truth is that I was so flustered I didn’t even think of talking to him. He was some strange boy, and Crowley was always better with children.”

Warlock’s face twisted. 

Crowley picked up. “It’s not an excuse. We should have tried to talk to him. Heaven and Hell were breathing down our necks. Hell had just found out that Aziraphale and I were friendly, I didn’t realize Aziraphale had only been discorporated for a couple of hours, I- This sounds small, in the scheme of things, but my car had just burned up while I was sitting in it and then blown up when I got out. Neither of us were sensible.”

Adam started speaking and Warlock’s grip on his fingers visibly tightened. Aziraphale wiped his sweaty palms on the back of his pants. Whether Crowley made fun or not, he was going to start carrying a handkerchief again. 

“You ran away before I could finish, before. They did aim a gun at me,” Adam left out the fact that Aziraphale had actually pulled the trigger, “but they also stood up to Heaven and Hell with me, and even when Satan himself showed up,” Aziraphale swallowed, knew Crowley was doing the same, but Adam kept talking like he was narrating meeting Mr. Tyler on the street, “they supported me. They stood by my side and they stopped time to tell me that they were proud of me.” And now he sniffed and raised his free hand to wipe a tear that slipped from the corner of his eye. “They’ve been good Godparents, by and large. It’s more than made up for- A lot of us did stupid things that day. I don’t blame them for trying to shoot me.” He turned to look Warlock in the eye. “I tried to end the whole world and wipe everyone off of it but me and Dog and Brian and Pepper and Wensleydale. I’d like to think that what I did after, stopping it, makes up for it a little.”

Warlock considered him. His voice barely wobbled when he spoke. “Alright, I hear what you’re all saying. I might need to think through it some more. I’ll try not to jump to any conclusions without talking to you.” He slipped his hand from Adam’s, slid his shoulders out from under Pepper’s arm, and turned towards the house. Aziraphale turned to offer Crowley a hug, but his demon, although he was pale and drawn, had opened his arms to Adam, who rushed in. 

Pepper surveyed them all. “I’ll tell Brian and Wensley that you’ll all be a moment.” And she followed Warlock. 

Warlock curled into the end of his sofa and stared at the dark window. It wasn’t that he’d gone into any of this unaware. He’d always known that Nanny and Brother Francis had strange abilities. Had guessed that Adam had his own since he’d met the man. He rubbed a hand across his face. It was just that it was one thing to know it intellectually and another to hear that Adam had almost destroyed the world with a thought, that Nanny had known and mourned Jesus in real time. 

Warlock began to undo the braids in his hair absently. Took a breath. Br- Aziraphale had tried to shoot Adam. Even with Adam’s admission that he had started Armageddon before thinking better of it, Warlock’s stomach curled unpleasantly at the thought. And it could have been him. He supposed he appreciated Nanny’s honesty, but it was still- They knew him! Had raised him. He had sometimes thought that Nanny knew him better than he knew himself. To find out that they had misjudge- thought so little of him (maybe he would have ended everything, given the power to do so. Who knew?) was shattering. 

Adam’s insistence that they had done other things that made up for it: truth or a kind lie? Warlock hated well-meaning lies. They were the sort of thing that his parents spouted to him about how proud they were of him or how they cared. He didn’t doubt they loved their idea of him. It was his own idea of himself that they objected to. 

Warlock started on the last braid. Then there was the fact that Crowley hadn’t been willing to kill Adam/Warlock himself. Where did that fit? He knew Nanny, but in the way that a child thought their primary parent could do anything. Crowley had disappeared before his teenage years. Warlock let out a nearly silent laugh and said to the empty room, “No wonder I’m so upset. Imagine going through the whole process of teenage disillusionment in one night.” The words echoed oddly in the empty room but made him feel a little bit better anyway. He breathed, saw again the way Aziraphale stood there like Warlock was going to hit him, the way Crowley curled in on himself. 

He finger-combed his hair back and began to braid it into a single braid for bed. Adam’s insistence that none of them should be judged – well, he guessed it made sense. If they were as close as it had looked at the beginning of the summer then Adam would have had to not just forgive them, but also trust them to do better. Part of Warlock wanted to dismiss it – Adam’s reading of people’s attitudes about things and all – but every instinct said they really did care for Adam and really would do better. 

Was this why Adam hadn’t made a move? Warlock was starting to suspect that Adam was as interested in him as he was in Adam, but the other boy held him at arm’s length. Was it because he didn’t think Warlock got it? In which case, maybe Warlock had proven him right today. In spite of his best efforts, dinner had been uncomfortable, conversation stilted. Warlock’s discomfort – and what exactly was he uncomfortable with? Not the almost Armageddon that should, he suspected, have been his biggest sticking point – had left Brian, Jeremy, and Pepper shooting each other significant looks and trying not to look too funereal. 

Warlock snapped the hair tie around the end of his braid and picked up his phone. 

It was embarrassing, how surprised he was that Brian picked up. It felt like there had been a breakup. 

“Warlock?”

“Hey.”

“What’s up?” Brian sounded like they were trying to be cheerful. “I just saw you.”

“You did,” Warlock agreed, “but I hadn’t figured out my question yet. Is now a bad time?”

“Of course not,” Brian sounded affronted at the idea that they weren’t hanging around waiting for a friend to call. 

Warlock smiled in spite of himself. “Can you tell me about Armageddon?”

There was an intake of breath, but all Brian said was “OK.” They began. “It started a couple of days after Adam’s birthday. Anathema had lent Adam some magazines.”

Brian swallowed as they finished, “and that was it. We all went home.” Warlock was quiet. This felt like the deciding moment. There was no doubt in Brian’s mind that this was Warlock staring down everything that he had brushed aside all summer, all the things he had accepted because he thought he should and hadn’t bothered to grapple with. 

“I’m sorry about dinner. You and Jeremy made a beautiful meal, and then.” Warlock stopped. 

“No,” Brian jumped to disagree, “no, it was a weird thing to celebrate for us who were there. You’ve been keeping Adam sane all summer while he planned it without even having heard the story from anyone…”

“Adam mentioned, off-hand, that Aziraphale tried to shoot him.” Warlock’s voice was small. “I think I overreacted.”

“Adam’s an idiot,” Brian informed him cheerfully. “Anyone could have guessed that you wouldn’t be happy about that. He never likes to believe that other people care about him though, and he always holds himself to some impossible higher standard because, you know, he’s unique. I bet the first thing you thought was how easily that could have been you. It probably never crossed his mind.” 

There was another silence.

Brian, unsure what to do, kept babbling. “It wasn’t overreacting. I think even Adam felt like- I think Adam was worried this summer. You know, everything almost ended when he was eleven, and it feels weird enough when you graduate college – like the world really could try to end again – and he’d been alive for another eleven years now.”

“I think he was just, you know, excited. That you all were still close, that I’d become your friend, that Newt and Anathema are still good friends even now that she’s figured out she’s a lesbian and he’s figuring out being ace. That Anathema’s girlfriend doesn’t mind if Anathema goes off to hang out with us all day. That he’s got so many friends. All the planning we did together just sounded like he was really… grateful.”

Brian snorted. “And here I’ve been thinking that’s why he was getting all broody and moping around. I was trying to distract him.”

The pause at the other end of the phone sounded way too thoughtful. “Do you think there’s any chance he doesn’t know how badly I’ve fallen for him? Is it weird if I say I’ve fallen for all of you this summer? As friends?”

Brian smiled at the phone. “We love having you as a friend too, Warlock. You’re family now. You’ve been told the story of Armageddon that almost was, you’re stuck with us now.”

Warlock snorted. 

Brian considered their next words carefully. “I can’t say for sure anything about what Adam knows or doesn’t know. But he’s not- He doesn’t see other people’s appreciation of him well. That’s been true for us and him, for him and Aziraphale and Crowley, so I don’t see why he would break the pattern now.”

“I see.” Warlock hummed at the phone. “Thank you, Brian. For, you know, helping me contain my damage.”

Brian snorted. “Anytime.” More seriously, “I’d always rather you come to me than risk losing your friendship, you know?”

The voice at the other end of the phone was quiet. “Yeah. Same here, or whatever, you know?”

Brian laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys know the drill now. Ignorant language or assumptions are accidental, and if you let me know I'll try to do better. Any missed pronouns for Brian are accidental, and I'd really like to fix them if you let me know. If this chapter upset you in any ways that weren't adequately marked, let me know and I'll tag better. 
> 
> I did read and re-read this chapter several times to make sure that Warlock was reacting in a way consistent with the gravity of the information he's finding out and also the way I've put him together in my head, but if his reactions seem grossly out of proportion even for Warlock and his issues with confrontation, let me know. (I mean, *I* think that I've characterized him as having issues with confrontation. Stubbornness isn't the same thing as being good at confrontation. But you may disagree. I don't know what it's like to read this when you don't live inside my head.)
> 
> Lastly, you guys are awesome. I've had SO. MANY. comments on this story, and ridiculous numbers of kudos, and you're all making my day brighter. Seriously, thank you all so much.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ends, as it should, with the relationship between Warlock and Adam shifting and settling into something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, as a recap for anyone who skipped last chapter, Adam let slip to Warlock that Aziraphale had tried to shoot him. Warlock immediately confronted Crowley and Aziraphale and found out that they had considered killing him when they thought he was the Antichrist. Adam also brings up just how close he came to ending the world. Warlock calls Brian later and has them tell him everything they know about the events of _Good Omens_. Warlock thinks about it and then distracts himself with his crush on Adam and decides that these people are still his friends and that between Adam's reassurances that Crowley and Aziraphale wouldn't do it again and Crowley and Aziraphale's explanations of how panicked they were, he still trusts everyone as well as caring about them. (At the moment I have no plans for a sequel, but if I did end up writing one I expect that it would come up again. One night of unrest didn't actually process the whole thing. But I don't think Adam will let Warlock push it all down very long.)
> 
> That said, this chapter centers around Adam's concern about his abilities and free will, so you know, more light cheerful topics. Actually though, imo it really is pretty sweet. Adam is very concerned about making sure that Warlock is truly consenting to their relationship and Warlock is pretty gentle with Adam in return.

“You know all of your friends are under the impression that I’m the first new friend you’ve made in eleven years?”

Adam jumped and turned. The hose that had been filling a water trough sprayed the ground. Adam redirected it quickly. “Warlock. I didn’t see you.”

“Some supernatural Antichrist you are.” Warlock’s face wrinkled fondly. “If they’d been right and I’d been the Antichrist, no one would ever have been able to sneak up on me again.”

“You must have been a bundle of laughs on the playground.”

Warlock’s gaze dropped to his sneakers. He had offered to come over and help with cleanup, but after last night Adam hadn’t really expected him. 

Adam licked his lip. “I… I’m sorry, for. Pepper said that I shouldn’t have sprung it on you, like it was funny. I just forget sometimes, that you weren’t there. I. You feel like one of us, you know?”

Warlock’s mouth quirked up at the side. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tiptoe around me. I- It caught me by surprise. It’s not. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide who you are from me.” Warlock was holding eye contact now. 

Adam swallowed. “I- I don’t, Warlock. That’s-”

“No,” Warlock stared him down. “Adam, I’m saying, I want to know you. All of you, whatever you’re willing to share. It’s. Yesterday took me by surprise, and part of it was bound up in the way I was raised, but- But even though I can’t promise it won’t happen again, I’m telling you, I’m going to keep coming back. You won’t scare me away for good.” He held out a hand. “I don’t know if you’re ace, or straight, or queer. If you see me as a sibling, or a friend, or a potential partner. But I’m all in, OK? Whatever you’re up for.”

Adam closed his eyes. He’d been trying so hard not to accidentally change anything about Warlock. So hard. He had to try to explain. “Warlock, I’m so sorry. I think I-” He bit his lip. “Sometimes I change reality accidentally. I try not to do it, or to keep it to a minimum, but you don’t have to say that just because I wanted to hear it.” Adam, not for the first time in his life, cursed Satan and God alike for putting him in this position. 

Warlock was smiling like he didn’t get it. Adam had thought that his powers were shrinking as he got older, not growing, but his friends had known he was pushing them around during Armageddon. 

“Adam.” Warlock’s voice was fond. “I was told that you have trouble believing people care about you at the best of times. You expect me to believe this was your doing? That you believed so completely that I loved you that I fell this hard?”

Adam stared. 

“That’s how it works, right? That’s what Aziraphale said, when I asked him, that it was about belief, but I guess maybe you work differently. Anyway, I’ve been falling since my graduation day. And Jeremy said you can’t take away our choices anyway. You said yourself, you don’t know our thoughts. So how do you think you can change them?”

Adam shook his head. “No, Warlock, you don’t understand. Heaven and Hell were going to come after Aziraphale and Crowley again a couple of years ago. They’d had the time to lick their wounds. I thought about it, and then I knew what they were planning, and then I just… fixed it. I could summon Beelzebub right now – or any demon – and none of them would know who Crowley is. Or Aziraphale. Demons! And Angels, Warlock. And I just… changed what they knew.”

Warlock’s chin tilted stubbornly. “Ok, so you can change what people know. That’s still different from changing how I feel about you, idiot. Have you ever, to your knowledge, changed someone’s feelings?” He sounded like he thought he knew the answer was no.

Through the panic rushing in his ears, Adam registered the fond tone. Warlock wasn’t getting it, still. “I’m serious, Warlock. This isn’t funny. I… I can’t believe I did this.” Adam had just enough presence of mind to flick the hose off before he dropped it to bury his head in his hands. 

“Adam.” Warlock’s voice was still far too calm, especially compared to last night. “Adam, can I touch you?” It was far away. “Adam.” There was a hand on his shoulder and Adam leaned into it guiltily, knowing that he shouldn’t, that he had wished someone into sympathy who would be disgusted if they knew… “Adam!” The voice was sharp, and Adam looked up. 

Warlock’s face had scrunched up in his worry, and beneath Adam’s guilt a part of him still cataloged the expression. It wasn’t for him, not really. It was from him, from his wishes, but. 

Warlock caught his eye and smiled. “There you are. You went off somewhere. Here, sit.” He tipped Adam to perch on the edge of the trough and continued to hold a hand on his shoulder. 

Adam allowed himself a moment to enjoy the warmth of that hand before he fixed the mess he’d made. 

Warlock frowned at him. “You’re going to try to undo it, aren't you? Whatever you think you’ve done?”

The least Adam could do was to explain what he was doing to his victim. “It’s only fair. I never should have… You seemed so safe! I got too comfortable.”

Warlock considered this. “You can try to change my feelings, but please don’t touch what I know.”

Adam took a shaky breath and nodded. The mental flexion was slower than usual and more deliberate, and Adam had gotten used to the feeling when he used it and the rarer feeling when he ran up against the edges of it; he knew the one from the other. He blinked at Warlock. Flexed it again, harder.

Warlock smiled at him, reached out and tugged gently on a chunk of Adam’s hair. “Do you know why I told you that I wouldn’t mind you changing my feelings – always assuming you could – but you weren’t allowed to touch my memories?”

Adam frowned at him. This seemed like a trick question. Warlock was smiling like it was, like Aziraphale when he was baiting Crowley. “Why?”

Warlock patted his cheek, amused. “Because I know my type perfectly well. Even if you did manage to erase everything I feel for you right now, you’d still be leaving me with a solid foundation for coming right back to it. Fool.” 

Adam ducked his head and mumbled, feeling wrong-footed, "You're a fool."

Warlock dipped a hand in the trough and poured a handful of cool water down Adam’s back. Adam jumped, yelping.

“I suppose you forced me to do that too, huh?” Warlock skipped back and picked up the hose from the ground, aiming it in Adam’s general direction threateningly. “Do you believe me yet?”

Adam gasped a laugh. “Come back here. Warlock!”

Warlock swayed teasingly out of reach. “Uh-huh. And why should I?”

Adam gripped the uncomfortable edge of plastic with both hands and wondered if it was God, Satan, or someone closer to home he had to thank for Warlock. Crowley and Aziraphale were going to get something amazing for Christmas, just in case. 

Warlock was still brandishing the hose and saying reassuring things. 

Adam sighed and held out a hand. “Alright, you’re right. Thank you.”

They had cuddled on the edge of the water trough, trying not to fall in, for long enough that Adam’s cattle had wandered over for a drink when Adam, leaning into Warlock’s side, finally spoke. “So do your declarations of interest often spark panic attacks?”

Warlock could not believe how much he loved this man. “No, you would be the first.” He spoke into Adam’s hair as the other man sprawled across his lap. 

“Good.” Adam shifted closer. “I like to be unique.”

Warlock snorted at him. “No worries there. But I bet Nanny had a panic attack the first time Bro- Aziraphale tried to address things too.”

“Mmm.” Adam turned so that his face was pressed against Warlock’s skin. When he spoke, his breath tickled Warlock’s chest. “You should ask them about going too fast, sometime when they’re both here. And I am. I want to see everyone’s faces.”

Warlock smiled down at the other man. He didn’t want to be the one to move, but the trough was digging into him and he was sure that Adam hadn’t eaten breakfast. “Did you finish all the feeding before I got here? Because you know, this wasn’t a one-time offer. I’m happy to snuggle anytime.”

Adam sat away from him, spine unusually straight. “I don’t snuggle.”

Warlock grinned, slouched in gentle mockery. “‘I don’t snuggle. The antichrist doesn’t snuggle. What do you think I am, a demon? I don’t snuggle!’”

Adam looked shocked for a moment, and awed, before settling on poorly concealed amusement. Warlock’s heart ached. “That’s not what I said. I’m just not- I don’t snuggle.”

Warlock folded his smile away. “Of course not. So you’ve said.”

Adam pretended to huff as he stood. “Well, I’m going to go put the hose away. When you’re done making fun, you can come and join me.”

Warlock looped an arm across the other boy’s shoulders. “Lucky for you, I can walk and make fun at the same time.”

Adam snorted and began rolling up the hose.

Brian was the first one there that evening. They weren’t sure what they were expecting, except that there had been that phone conversation with Warlock, who had sounded like he was deciding something. They weren’t expecting to arrive and find Adam and Warlock stocking hay like it was any other afternoon. Adam’s halo of curls bounced around his face as he drove the tractor back up from the sheep pen, Warlock perched on the cover of one giant tyre. Warlock caught sight of Brian first, waved, and tilted his face down towards Adam, who turned to drive past Brian on the way to park.

Brian wanted nothing so much as to demand answers from Warlock right now, but instead they just stepped onto the hitch and grabbed the edge of Adam’s seat when the tractor paused. They would catch Warlock later and demand to know what was happening. 

Pepper and Wensleydale arrived together. They exchanged glances on the hike up the drive, but Pepper refused to even discuss the idea that Warlock wouldn’t be there. She didn’t think he would be. She wasn’t even sure she blamed him. He had never been as odd as he’d thought he was, and whatever else they were, she and her friends were very odd. She knew Wensleydale thought Warlock would be there. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Warlock was stubborn. She knew he had to be, to get here. It was just that he was fighting on so many fronts already (on all of them mostly against his father). He’d had a lot of practice standing up for himself against the people he cared about, and if he felt that Adam or Crowley or Aziraphale were in danger of pushing him to do anything… There had always been something unmoored about him. He might be upset to lose someone, but she couldn’t imagine that would stop him from cutting ties if he thought he needed to.

It wasn’t like Wensleydale to be an incorrigible optimist, but he’d been one since they ran into Warlock at graduation that summer. She didn’t want to have to be the one to squash his hopes. 

They came around the barn and Warlock’s car came into view. Wensley knew that Pepper had been refusing to talk about it because she assumed that it was over. “Can I talk now?” He waved a hand at the car and watched Pepper’s mouth open in shock. 

“Wh- How?”

“Really, I think I ought to tell Warlock how little faith you have in him. Or was it how little faith you have in Adam?”

Pepper rolled her eyes to give herself time to recover. “It’s not like that. Don’t be wet.”

“So what was it like then?”

“What sane human being comes up against Armageddon and the Antichrist and comes back?” She sighed, in a bad imitation of feeling put-upon. She was going to be delighted in a moment. He could see it starting in the corners of her face. 

That made it safe to tease her a little more. “What does that make Adam?”

Pepper’s jaw tightened. “Adam is our best friend. It’s a credit to Warlock’s judgement that he’s been befriending Adam all summer, but it’s one thing to love Adam and it’s another thing to take it in stride when he tells you about that time he nearly ended the world on a whim. You didn’t see Warlock’s face last night.”

There was a commotion before Wensleydale could come up with a response and then Warlock came flying out from the tractor shed, braid flying out behind him. A moment later, Adam and Brian followed. Adam was fast for being so solidly built, and it was surprising to no one when he caught Warlock halfway to the porch.

All three of their friends stared, however, when Warlock rewarded this behavior by grabbing Adam’s shoulders and turning to face him, tilting his head down ever so slightly, and kissing the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! One final time, please let me know about anything I've accidentally said that isn't OK, I would much rather know so I can try to fix it and not do it again. Especially let me know if I've misgendered Brian anywhere. I did reread this chapter a few times, but I can always miss things, and I typed the summary of last chapter right into the notes box where I could easily have made a mistake. 
> 
> I have a couple of things in the works now, including another Warlock story, a Yuri on Ice fic, and a Harry Potter fic, of all things. In addition to those, I may do something of some variety on here for Halloween. That would probably be a Good Omens fic. I'm still absurdly busy at work, but I expect to continue to avoid work and work on fanfic instead, so some number of my WIP's will be up soonish.
> 
> Seriously, thank you all so much for reading, this story has garnered significantly more interest than is usual for me, and it's been so wonderful to see the hits, kudos, and comments (such wonderful thoughtful comments!) piling up.


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